Cactus skeleton sketch
Sketch from hike in Anza Borrego

For many years, I had a sketchbook with me all of the time. If I had a moment, I was sketching. Taking visual notes of anything and everything. Laundry baskets. Children sleeping on the floor at a folk festival. People in a meeting. House plants. People in restaurants. The puppy. The dog. The dog and the kids. The tree in the back yard. The mailbox across the street from the flute teacher’s house. Animals in the zoo.

 

 

Coyote Canyon, etching, black and white proof
Coyote Canyon, etching, black and white proof
Coyote Canyon, etching by Julianne Ricksecker
Coyote Canyon, etching by Julianne Rickseck

 

Many of these sketches have found their way into pieces of art over the years, either as the whole subject, or as a snippet incorporated into a larger image.

 

thistle sketch with notes
thistle sketch with notes

Sketchbooks also serve as a place to make verbal notes – thoughts on my first view of Grand Canyon. Notes about colors or atmospheric impression of a place. Ideas for new work or a new way to use techniques.  These notes are relatively few as this book is not intended to be a written journal, but they sometimes capture something about the inspiration for a new piece.

When I went to work full-time in alternate career, I stopped carrying a sketchbook everywhere with me – it wasn’t appropriate.  While I continued to make art on the weekends, gradually, I found I only carried a sketchbook on vacations, or on special occasions, like on a hike in the mountains.  I still referred back to old sketchbooks regularly when working in the studio, but it was no longer a daily habit to carry it around, open it up, and draw.  Whereas I used to fill up several sketchbooks a year, I was now carrying the same book for years on end.

Thistle, etching by Julianne Ricksecker
Thistle, etching by Julianne Ricksecker

Last summer, during a trip to the East Coast, I remember using my sketchbook on the plane and tucking it into the seat pocket. After returning home, a few weeks went by before I looked for it and I could not find it anywhere. I have never lost a sketchbook before! I did an exhaustive search over a two-week period without success. I could not remember seeing it after that plane ride.  I felt like I had lost a friend. I finally reported it lost to the airline, but by this time, I didn’t have much hope. I resigned myself to the loss and put my contact information in the front of a brand new sketchbook.

Imagine my joy when it turned up unexpectedly last week! It was here all along, inside a re-usable shopping bag in the garage.  Welcome back.

Cuyamaca Sycamore, Watercolor
Cuyamaca Sycamore, Watercolor, © 2012 by Julianne Ricksecker (in private collection)

It has taken me a long time to decide that blogging is something I should be doing as an artist!   Now that the page is built on my website, and I am looking at the blank page, my feelings are a little like they were, years ago, when construction was complete on my studio and I sat in the new room for the first time with no more excuses for not beginning new work.

Lots of questions go through my mind: will I have enough interesting things to say that people will want to read my blog?  Will anything I have to say matter to anyone but me?  Will my inspiration desert me after a day, a week, a month?

In those days, I had some experience with showing and selling art, so there was at least some historical evidence to support the idea that I deserved this wonderful new work space, and that I could sustain production of art to justify the expense.  I have no such historical evidence with creating blog posts!

Since that time, I have produced hundreds of pieces of art, many of them winning prizes in local, regional and even international art competition. I suspect the “blank page” syndrome that is still occasionally difficult to overcome in the creation of new art may be similar in the creation of new blogs.  Perhaps I will overcome it in much the same way:

Go in to the studio (or WordPress) and play today.  No one has to see what I am doing unless I decide to let them.  Learn from each attempt, even if I don’t end up with a piece worth signing and showing to the world. One day, I will feel more confident that what I have to say about my art and other topics will interest a few people. Until then, I can play with words and see where it leads!